Two Out of Three
by cklls
Summary: There was only one woman he would ever love, so what was Draco doing in Astoria's bed? Implied sexual content.


**Two Out of Three…**

_A Short Story Inspired by Meatloaf_

"Astoria, please, this is not getting us anywhere," he breathed, trying desperately to keep exasperation out of his tone. This was not the time to anger and upset her further. There were expectations placed upon him, after all, and he had done enough in his life to flout them. This was one time that he really couldn't screw it up.

"Draco, how can I possibly marry you knowing how you feel?" she retorted through her tears, her words barely comprehensible through the sobbing. "This isn't what I want for my life. I want it all, and you won't give it to me. I want you out, now."

"Come on, love, throwing me out won't change anything. The contracts have been signed; we have to do this. It's not so bad. I know I can make you happy."

"How can you say that?" she screeched at him. "How can you promise something that you know you can't… you won't deliver? I can't ever be happy knowing… that it's _her_."

"I want you, Astoria, you know I do. We're good together," he cajoled, reaching over to tug her back against his naked chest. She resisted his attempt to spoon her and did her best to stay on her own side of the bed. "I need you in my life. You're everything my wife should be."

"It's not enough, Draco," she whispered again, sliding out of the bed and tugging on her embroidered silk robe.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, fishing with one hand in the bottom of the sheets for the boxers he'd kicked off earlier. "Fuck," he breathed as he tugged the silk fabric over his hips, following her into the bathroom. "I've tried to show you how much I care for you, and if we're honest here, this is not my fault alone. You've been distant and cold for months. Sometimes it feels like I've got ice in my veins, from the way you treat me, Astoria."

"How can you expect anything better than that, Draco? You call out _her_ name in my bed!"

"Twice! Twice, I've done that in the three years we've been together. I told you how sorry I was for that," he replied, trying to find a way to excuse his abominable behavior. "She and I were together for more than four years; you have to understand…" he trailed off.

"No! That's just it! I really don't have to understand. You're supposed to be marrying me, not her. I can't do it, Draco. I can't play second fiddle to that Mudblood."

Draco's eyes flashed in fury. "You can be as pissed off at me as you want to be, Astoria, but don't use that word in my presence, especially about her."

"When you stop thinking about her while you're in my bed, I'll stop calling her a Mudblood," she spat back.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say to you. But I've been honest with you from the start. I don't love you and I can't see the day that I will. I can't give you something that belongs to someone else, Astoria," he told her with deep sadness straining his voice. "There's a lot I can give you, and I know you well enough to know that those are the things that drew us together in the first place. You've never complained about the jewelry, or the designer clothes, or the extended vacations that my money buys for you. I've never denied you anything, Astoria, but those are the things I can give you. Don't ask for the one thing that I can't."

"Get out, Draco. Just… get out."

The finality in her voice was unmistakable. Draco was smart enough to know that if he didn't make himself scarce, his fiancée would apply painful hexes to parts of his anatomy that wouldn't tolerate damage terribly well. He left her sitting on the side of the large claw foot tub and returned to the bedroom to retrieve the rest of his clothing. He dressed quickly and decided that it would be better to make his exit without further comment.

Rather than using the Floo, he decided to walk to the Apparition point that was about ten blocks from Astoria's flat. The stormy night was an exact match to his mood; thunder and lightning crashed around him as heavy rain pelted his body. He couldn't be bothered to cast a repelling charm. Maybe he'd be lucky and get struck by a stray bolt, he thought.

He'd traveled less than a block when he recalled that the night she'd left him had been a duplicate of this one, the night his heart had been shattered beyond his capacity to heal. The path to that night had been a great rollercoaster.

_It had surprised very few when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had finally started seeing each other, after months of playing cat and mouse. His long enmity with the Golden Trio had ended a couple of years earlier when he'd made a name for himself by offering his help in identifying and capturing a couple of dozen Death Eaters who had escaped the Ministry's initial sweeps. He'd willingly exploited his father's former contacts – and penchant for meticulous record-keeping – and worked alongside Harry Potter for months to bring the miscreants to justice. The two young men had formed a tentative friendship which had led to the erstwhile Slytherin joining the young Auror and his friends for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron once in a while._

_He'd begun to notice her sense of humor first. He'd always known she was quick-witted and smart; it had made him crazy in school that she'd beat him in every subject except First-Year Broom Flight with Madam Hooch. He'd never realized, however, that she was as sharp of tongue as he was. Her sarcasm was biting and she had the uncanny ability to insult someone without them ever knowing it. He relished the rush of a witty exchange with her; the mental challenge was exhilarating. _

_That was when he'd noticed her eyes and the way they twinkled and flashed when she'd got the better of someone – often him as one of her favorite targets. He accepted her ribbing good-naturedly and gave back as much as he got. Many nights would find their now-mutual friends laughing uproariously at the by-play between the two. He'd join in at the amusement at his own expense and more than once found himself with his arms wrapped around the waist of the squirming witch who was attempting to escape the "punishment" he'd promised for embarrassing him. Their tickle-fests became epic battles._

_That was when he noticed how much he craved his arms around her. He'd been desperate enough for the opportunity that he'd convinced the small group of pals to find a club where they could dance, simply for the excuse to wrap himself around the witch a few times a night. She didn't seem to mind and often would initiate the contact, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the dance floor when a favorite song was played. He told himself that he wasn't troubled by the fact that she'd done the same with Ron, Harry, and occasionally, Blaise. That internal struggle only lasted a few weeks before he finally admitted the intense jealousy that consumed him when another man touched the woman he'd begun to think of as "his" witch._

_It had taken another month before he worked up the courage to ask her to accompany him to a Ministry event as his date. She hadn't seemed surprised that he'd approached her, and he'd been delighted that she accepted his invitation readily. They'd had a terrific dinner, a lovely evening, and a little too much to drink, and Hermione had invited him to stay, to ensure that he wouldn't splinch himself when Apparating home, she'd said. That was when he noticed that the fact that she hadn't offered her guest room, but rather her own bed, probably meant that she was almost as interested in him as he was in her._

_Their first time was hot and sweaty and vigorous and Draco could never recall having been so exhausted, sated and fulfilled. It was the first time in a long time that he'd stayed the whole night in a witch's bed and he had awakened with his arms firmly locked around the woman in question. Their second joining was slow and sweet and tender, and after a long, hot shower, he'd commandeered her kitchen to make breakfast for her. They'd talked over mushroom and cheese omelets and multiple cups of tea for hours. That was when he noticed that he craved her company at least as much as her body._

_Draco told Hermione that he loved her two months later, as he released his seed into her depths on the floor in front of his fireplace. Her reply had been to kiss him deeply and arch her back to accept him more fully. Six weeks later, he invited her to move in with him, to find a place that would be theirs. She'd been as enthusiastic about the idea as he had, and had dived in to the project with her usual eagerness and attention to detail. They moved in to a lovely country cottage near Godric's Hollow just four weeks later._

_Their first year together was fresh and new and exciting. Mutual discovery was a heady thing, Draco found. They decorated the cottage to his taste – and considerable expense - because she never seemed to care very much about fabrics and colors and wood stain. She gleefully helped him to fill their library with thousands of books – Muggle and magical – on hundreds of topics. If Sunday morning was spent making love, Sunday afternoon was for cuddling in big leather armchairs with a stack of books. They'd have passionate discussions on everything from magical theory to Muggle physics, and they christened every flat surface in the cottage with their equally passionate sex. Draco couldn't get enough of her, and she seemed as content as he to spend hours with their limbs entwined. _

_The second year was warm and content and comfortable. The couple developed their mutual and individual habits of life in the country, and Hermione decided to plant a small garden near the back patio. She'd come back in the house from hours of tending the growing plants, dirty and sweaty, and climb in the shower to wash away the grime. Draco would join her, running the soapy sponge lovingly over her back and shoulders. He'd take her where she stood, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, she welcoming him into her body and he letting her into his heart._

_In their third year together, Draco lamented the fact that while Hermione was warm and affectionate and physically attentive to him, she seemed to be very protective of her emotions. She rarely spoke about how she felt, never talked about her frustrations or her dreams, and, Draco realized with a churning stomach and shaking hands, had never actually told him aloud that she loved him – not once. Her responses to his declarations had always been physical: a kiss, a stroke of his cheek, an embrace. She seemed happy, he thought, seeking any evidence to sooth his worry. Maybe he was just borrowing trouble, he decided._

_By their fourth year together, Draco was certain he'd found the only woman he would ever truly love and he reveled in the feeling of having her in his life. While she was still unlikely to talk about her feelings, she had not shown any sign of pulling away from him. On the contrary, she seemed content in their life together. As the year drew to a close, Draco thought that this might be the time to make their arrangement permanent. He would do it at Yule – finally ask her to be his bride. _

_He went to his family vault to find an appropriate ring to propose their union, and located a perfect eternity cut white diamond set in intricately woven platinum. It was not ostentatious – she would have hated that – but it was beautifully old-fashioned and sentimental. The ring had belonged to his Grandmother Rosier, whom he had adored. It would be the perfect gift for his Hermione. He pocketed the ring in its velvet and satin box and went home to prepare an evening of romance._

_The dinner had been perfect, he thought, and they had danced together in the sitting room to the sweet holiday tunes on the Wizarding Wireless. He had a fine bottle of champagne on ice in their bedroom and he'd led her to their private refuge with a gentle hand and sensual kisses. He'd undressed her slowly, savoring every inch of flesh as it was revealed to him, and had kissed and caressed her until they were both aching with need for the other. He poured every bit of his love into their joining and fought against the urge to weep with the emotion of it. When they were both deliciously sated and pleasantly warm, he wrapped his arms around her once more and drew her close to his body, his hand wrapped around the ring he'd hidden under his pillow._

"_Hermione, I love you," he whispered into the night. "I never thought I could be so happy and content with my life and it's because of you. I never want to live my life without you in it. Will you be my bride? Will you marry me?"_

_The sudden stiffness in her body and the shocked look on her face were enough to give him the answer that he'd never anticipated. When she spoke, the heart that he'd given to her so fully and freely began to shatter. "Draco… I… I don't know what to say. You know how much I want you, and I suppose that I've come to need you in my life, too. But… I don't love you, not that way. I'm sorry. I… can't marry you," she told him. She kissed him once and pulled away from his embrace, leaving him stunned and silent in their bed. _

_He'd watched in shock as she rose and packed a trunk full of clothes without another word. His eyes filled with tears of sadness as she failed to respond to his plea to stay. She left the house just minutes later and he wept in his bed, the ring still clutched in his fist as he listened to thunder and rain crashing outside._

He'd tried to contact her several times, to see if he could salvage the relationship on her terms, but it seemed that she had disappeared off the face of the earth. If her friends knew where to find her, they were not sharing it with him, despite his desperate pleas and obvious depression. It had taken him nearly a year to accept that she was not coming back and that he needed to move on with his life. His parents were pressuring him to find a wife and start a family, and his mother had set him up on a date with Astoria Greengrass. They'd known each other through her older sister, who'd been Draco's year-mate, but he'd never really given the witch a second thought until his heart had felt that there was nothing left to lose.

Their relationship was socially acceptable, and reasonably satisfying, but it would never match the love he'd felt for Hermione. He was settling for second best, and he knew it. Now Astoria did, too.

As he walked in the rain, he wondered where Hermione was today. If she would take him back, he'd be at her side in an instant, even after all this time. He was promised to Astoria, but there was more than one way to end a contract. If he paid her enough, he felt confident that she'd leave him alone, regardless of how much she claimed to love him, especially knowing that he'd never stopped loving the woman who'd previously shared his bed. Hell, maybe she'd even initiate dissolution of their engagement, considering how furious she was with him at the moment. He could hope, couldn't he?

When he finally reached the Apparition point, he was soaked to the skin. A few minutes later, he was in his own cottage – the same house he'd shared with the love of his life – and stripping to take a hot shower when he heard a faint sound outside the window, through the howling wind and driving rain. Tap, tap, tap. An owl, obviously, was trying to gain entry. He was certain that it was probably a Howler from either Astoria or possibly his mother, taking him to task for his callous treatment of the woman who was to be his wife. Thinking that he might as well get it over with, he opened the window to admit the creature and found that it was not the bird he'd thought it would be. It was, however, meant for him and there was a note attached. As he opened it, his heart began to beat so fast that he thought it might explode out of his chest. It was from _her_. She had reached out for him when he least expected. It read…

Draco,

I'm back in town and I hoped that maybe we could talk. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I hope you'll consider it. Meet me at the Leaky at 9:00pm tonight if you're willing.

Always,

Hermione

Knowing that he was setting himself up for nothing but more heartbreak, Draco also knew that he would be waiting when the clock struck nine. If only to ask her why, if only to say his final goodbye, Draco would see her tonight. Just one more time.


End file.
